


Of Light and Darkness, You Are Born

by yesiamsleepy



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst, F/F, this an angsty mess, with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesiamsleepy/pseuds/yesiamsleepy
Summary: You were born twice. Your first birth was of light, the second of darkness. While Rao's light gave you life, the phantom zone did it's best to steal it away. Duality is all you know.A Kara Danvers Study





	Of Light and Darkness, You Are Born

**Author's Note:**

> Endless love to @happyandstupidotter for helping me out with this. Best otter ever

You were born twice.  
  
Your first birth was of light. Under Rao’s luminous essence, you experienced your first dawn. The eldest child. Beloved daughter. _Kara Zor El_. Of the noble house of El.  
  
The name El itself meant _of the stars._

You were born to shine bright. And you did.  
  
Only, no one told you, the brightest flames burn the fastest.

* * *

You were reborn in darkness.  
  
Space was cold, colder than you could have ever imagined. Rao’s light was old. He was weary, but he still warmed your soul, if not always your frozen hands. You were accustomed to the bite of the air as soon as the midday hour had passed. Sometimes, you even enjoyed it. There was so little open water available, that watching the little molecules of moisture rise in the air was still a novel experience.  
  
The cold of the space was different. There was no moisture, for there was no water. There was only a bone deep _ache_ and darkness. No shapes, no shades of grey broke up the pitch black for there was nothing _to_ break anything up. Every depth was identical, every direction the exact same monotony.  
  
Your father once took you the Desolate Plains, where nothing grew because over-mining of resources had ruined the land. He had meant for it to be a lesson on wastage and the scarcity of resources. However, the thing that you most remembered from that trip was how struck you were by the absolute _sameness_ of the landscape.  
  
You couldn’t have known back then, just how vibrant that piece of Krypton was.  
  
When the art world on Earth raved over the blackest black, you almost laughed to yourself. Humanity could never _imagine_ what the blackest black, the darkest of the dark feels like. It was your cross to bear, you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemy.

* * *

You hated waking up in the mornings. Luckily, you rarely had to. Your mother was a firm believer in learning when you were ready to. Lessons were conducted by Kelex, so they could be suited to your timings. And thus, you slept in often.  
  
Your father, on the other hand, loved mornings. He lived for the moment when the grey of the night would gradually turn pink and then a brilliant red as Rao woke up.  
  
“We are the children of Rao,” He used to say often. “It is a privilege to watch him gift us his warmth and love.” It was a speech he was fond of, and one you knew by heart. Your mother would fondly roll her eyes while carrying on with whatever work she had left. But you hung on to every word.

And when the next day, you woke up before your father and quietly tucked yourself into his side, so you could watch the beginning of the rays together, no one was surprised.  
  
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The light in his eyes spoke volumes.

* * *

For the longest time, you refused to look at Sol’s light.  
  
You told everyone it hurt, and it was true. Your cells were still hardening, absorbing the radiation that would make them unbreakable. But your senses were already heightened. Looking at Earth’s Sun was like being slammed with a hot poker, but only for a second. Your healing, already at a super-human pace, kept you from suffering permanent damages. But it still _hurt_.  
  
You told everyone it hurt, and it was true. The rays were too bright, too _yellow,_ a colour you had come to experience only after the bright young star lit up your surroundings. The morning wasn’t pink enough, the day not red enough, and the night not black enough. Everything looked different, everything _was_ different, was _alien._ And it _hurt_.  
  
You told everyone it hurt, and it was true. You hadn’t woken up with your father in years. Almost a teenager, you had better things to do. Waking up early required sleeping early, and which self-respecting teen would do that? Your father never said anything, but you saw the light dim from his eyes a little every time you refused his offer of watching the morning roll in together. And now, there was only darkness.  
  
And it _hurt_

* * *

  
What people often fail to understand is that you didn’t _just_ have a red sun instead of a yellow one, it’s a little more complicated than that. Light affects all parts of your being. The heat of the photons, the slant of the rays determines exactly what your core temperature will be. Colours _exist_ because of light. Even Alex, intimately familiar with all aspects of your biology, culture and planet, often forgot what it meant for you to look in the mirror to see clear blue eyes.  
  
Blue. _Ehkov._

It was a word that had been lost to you, maybe to your culture itself. You had been talking to the AI of Alura, telling her about all the changes the yellow sun rendered in you when you realized you did not know _how_ to tell her.  
  
You nearly had a panic attack in the very room, while your ‘mother’ watched on dispassionately. The AI was not programmed to render aid. That more than the attack broke you. If the next few months had the lowest crime rates for the year, well you’re sure there was no co-relation.

* * *

  
  
It was the fortress that finally gave you an answer.  
  
“What do I call my eyes?” You asked, trembling, unsure if an answer even existed. You _used_ to call it _dol_. Black as the night, black as the deepest point of space, the same colour as your father had, and his father, and so on. You honestly don’t know if you are relieved your own eyes don’t betray how much of the darkness had seeped into your soul.  
  
It took some time, longer than you were accustomed to waiting from this particular piece of technology, but eventually it did find what you were looking for. A word did exist. Long forgotten, conceived during Krypton’s youth, when Rao was still a fledgling. When Sol was but a mere idea.  
  
_Ehkov_ , you repeated, feeling the iron clasp leaving your lungs, allowing you to breathe again.  
  
It was only as you were about to fly back, that something else occurred to you.  
  
“What do I call my hair?” You asked.  
  
The answer was faster this time. _Riz._ Yellow. Another new word you didn’t know existed.  
  
“And my mother’s?”  
  
“ _Gadiahr._ ” Red.  
  
You nod once as you leave, a force of habit more than intention. Instinct and muscle memory are the only thing keeping you going anyway.  
  
You no longer share your mother’s hair colour.

* * *

Travelling had always been something you enjoyed. For someone with your privileges, it was easy. Your father took you on business trips and your mother to diplomatic meetings. You saw planets windy deserts and lands frozen in ice. You swam in lakes of lava where you had to wear specially designed protective gear that your father and Uncle Jor had made. You saw greenery and lakes, hills and mountains, but most importantly, you got to see the two most favourite people in your life for extended amounts of time.  
  
Interplanetary travel was something Krypton excelled at. Large red vessels, adorned with the crest of each of the ruling houses were often used for official purposes. Specially insulated fast-travelling luxurious vessels with multiple on board Kelex present to help out with any needs, they felt less like spaceships, and more like lavish hotel rooms.  
  
You loved it.  
  
Your pod though, had none of these amenities. Put together in secret, with hurriedly gathered parts and little thought to longevity, it was a miracle you survived at all. In all probability your saving grace was the same as your almost undoing – the absence of time.  
  
It was a difficult thing to comprehend even for a Kryptonian, the absolute _stop_ your life came to. Logically you knew time worked like just any other dimension, that it was possible to move forward or backward, though travelling in time had been forbidden in Krypton for over two millennia, yet it was mind-boggling to consider.  
  
If time did not flow, parts couldn’t decay with age and thus systems couldn’t fail. If time did not flow, your hair did not grow, your nails remained the same and you were stuck in a loop of your last memories of action.  
  
If time did not flow, the darkness of your surroundings was mitigated only by the light of your imagination – the last light you saw, the dying embers of what once was your planet.  
  
There was no if. Time did _not_ flow and your brain kept circling back to that moment no matter how much you tried not to. Sometimes, light can be the one torturing your being, while darkness embraces you in soothing quiet.

* * *

  
  
You refused to sleep without a light.  
  
Well, not refused, you would have never been that presumptuous. Manners and etiquette have been drilled into you since birth, and you would never overstep on the Danvers’ overwhelming kindness by demanding things.  
  
It was more that you _couldn’t_ sleep. At all. For three nights straight.  
  
Night came early in Midvale. It was the kind of starry sky no city could ever hope to produce. But that did little to deter the thick veil of darkness that hung around you. The more you tried to ignore it the heavier it got till you were grasping at your throat for a breath.  
  
It took all your concentration to gulp in lungfuls of much needed air. Sleep was a luxury you couldn’t afford.  
  
It was during the third night that Alexandra Danvers noticed. Grumpy, sullen, the redhead had given you no indication that she wanted to do more than merely tolerate your presence. But to your utter shock, she barged in to your room at 3 in the morning, plugged in a mars lamp and left just as suddenly without so much as a word.  
  
It was a small LED light, obviously a treasured position by the shine it emitted. But Alex had given it up without a thought. To this day you don’t know if it was the light lifting the oppressive dark, the small reddish glow or Alex’s abrupt kindness that helped you fall asleep, but for the first time in forever, you didn’t dream.

* * *

  
  
Eliza takes you grocery shopping.  
  
The store is light, airy, designed to make shoppers feel comfortable. You love it here.  
  
Fresh fruits and vegetables are something of a recent development for you. By the time you were worn, Krypton was mostly a barren husk. Your nutrients were synthetically engineered, artificially sourced. Even the natural, ones carefully processed under specially controlled conditions had an odd, dull sheen to them. And while they were perfectly healthy, there is something about holding a perfectly round shiny tomato that is indescribable.  
  
You are allowed to maneuver the cart. It’s a small thrill because it means she trusts you not to break it, to not reveal yourself in public. Also, because it’s just so fun. You are constantly zipping back and forth – at human speeds – and picking out different vegetables to place in the cart. By the time you are done, your cart is overflowing.  
  
The woman behind you in the queue chuckles good naturedly, “I wish I could get my daughter to be this excited about vegetables.”   
  
You beam. Getting called someone’s daughter, being part of a family again is still new to you and the novelty hasn’t worn off. You realize you _like_ being a part of the Danvers, you like being their daughter/sister. It’s a warm feeling that you never want to let go of.  
  
“Must be your genes,” the shopper continues, ”After all, she looks just like you.”  
  
It takes a moment for you to realize what she was referring to you, to what she saw. Similar frames, similar builds and most importantly, the same hair colour. The lady walks away, thinking nothing of her inconsequential comment, not realizing the impact of her comment.  
  
You once again share a mother’s hair colour.

* * *

Green haunts you.  
  
The glow of the kryptonite sword is anything but warm. The red that coats it is far from shiny. For the first time in your life, red cannot comfort. You watch as your aunt’s lifeless body falls to the ground, her black uniform hiding the extent of the blood. But you know. The dark of the night can no longer mask the terrors, not on this planet.  
  
But your own personal world turns ever darker still.

* * *

Winn calls you a ray of sunlight. James agrees and pretty soon the entire office has taken up the nickname. They look at you and see a pretty, blonde, small town girl with a penchant for giving. And they compare you to the biggest provider they can think of – the sun.  
  
You are eternally grateful for the Kara Danvers persona. You can just smile and run away. You aren’t expected to respond. You have no idea how to respond  
  
Sol gives humans light, love, energy. He is the reason life on earth exists, that the birds sing, that the trees grow, that freezing wastelands filled with darkness do not encroach on their dreams, like they do yours. Sol is their Rao. And though they don’t realize it, they called you their God.  
  
And you look at the warped metal door knob in your hand, you can remember the man you almost hurt today while trying to help, you can remember the hundreds you _did_ hurt when you were a little too hasty with your punches, a little too aggressive with your apprehending and you feel the absolute opposite.  
  
You remember the alien who wreaked havoc on National City for the sole reason of punishing you for your mother’s crimes. You remember the blood on your hands, and the blood on your parents' hands  
  
You want to scream.

* * *

They call Supergirl a God. This time they do mean it.  
  
You wonder if they have all gone mad. Or maybe it’s just you.  
  
Astra had said a little madness was inevitable. Twenty-four years in the darkness of space would turn anyone a little crazy. She told you this to make you understand, to make you sympathize with her cause. She didn’t know you already understood.  
  
Sometimes deep in the night, you could hear the phantom zone calling, soft and soothing, taking you back to the darkness with the promise of safety. Sometimes you couldn’t figure out what was real. It was nights like those that you sat at the window sill desperately listening to the beats of your sister’s heart and timing your thoughts with the rhythm.  
  
_I am here. On Earth. This is real. I escaped._  
  
The Zone just laughs and retreats and promises to come back soon.  
  
You already know this is a promise it will keep.

* * *

You have had over a decade to get used to the vibrance of shades on Earth, yet you are wholly unprepared for the red of Lena Luthor’s lips when she first smiles at you.  
  
You are aware of Clark next to you, going over his points, points you had _both_ practiced, but if someone asked you to repeat them in the moment, there is no way you would be able to. You are aware of Lena, replying, whip smart, with a hint of tease, almost playing with the reporter who has destroyed her family once and could do it again, yet not even flinching at the thinly veiled accusations. You could recount the shape those lips took for every word uttered.  
  
_It’s because you are unused to red that rich_ , you tell yourself. The red on Kyrpton was everywhere, but it was the dull, almost uniform red of a dying star with little heat to spare. The deep crimson on Lena Luthor’s lips, on the other hand spreads heat through your veins almost making you squirm.  
  
Much later when you have that same red marking a track of vermillion all over your body, you know, it’s because of Lena herself.

* * *

  
  
The first time you lose your powers, it’s painful.  
  
Your family, Rao bless them, they try but, they don’t get it. They call you _human for the day._ You choke back the words, you don’t remind them, without your powers, you almost feel _Kryptonian_ , like the last time you set foot on your planet.  
  
Almost.  
  
Nothing ever really feels the same. The air feels cleaner, the light is different. The clothes on your skin feel neither like the soft supple material back home, or the light, almost weightless garments you had gotten used to at work. They feel heavy, coarse, like one of those weighted blankets you have heard Winn raving about. You are not used to feeling weight. Your muscle memory cannot compensate for how much force to use and you are hyperaware about every raw thread that brushes against your body. You want to claw out of your skin.  
  
The second time, if possible, is worse.  
  
The second time, the zone comes calling. Only you do not have Alex’s heartbeat to help. Your sister is safely ensconced with her girlfriend and you are loathed to call her. And the silence slowly drives you insane.  
  
The bustle of the city, the stray honking of a car twenty blocks away, the quiet rustle of papers from your neighbour who chooses the middle of the night to grade essays, the soothing lullaby from two buildings down – all fade away to nothing without your super hearing. The irony of learning to block extraneous sounds is that in their absence, the sound of silence is oppressive.  
  
Your ears ring with harsh cacophony of tones that you know do not exist in reality. The zone laughs. _Wasn’t it better with me?_ It asks.  
  
_No, never_ you try to scream, but the sobs choke your voice. The quiet laughs at you.  
  
The third time though is better. Vibrant green eyes meet your gaze as Lena’s voice tries to sooth you after your nightmare. You focus on her touch, her voice, the soft lilting tones of her accent that is music to your ears.  
  
She opens her arms in invitation and you make no hesitation in wrapping yourself around her, letting her clutch you tightly, enjoying the feel of the hug. You fall asleep with your ear to her chest listening to her heart beat.  
  
For the first time, green feels warm.

* * *

“What was it like?” Lena whispers, eyes still on the distant view of the city.  
  
You are both on the roof of your building, enjoying a rare moment of peace when neither murderous family nor raging businessmen require your attention. The slowly setting sun casts a soft reddish tint, encasing both you and her in its dying glow. Pale light bounces off raven locks, almost forming a halo and you can't help but admire. She looks ethereal. Divine. Had this been a Greek epic, you would have already offered to start wars in her honour.  
  
_Not that you don’t already_ , the voice in your head (which sounds surprisingly like Alex says). Whatever. You would fight the world for her. Lena deserves it, not that she would ever ask.  
  
You must have taken too long to answer, because she finally turns to face you. A small amused smile graces her lips, like she already knows what is going through your head. You tell her anyway.  
  
“You are beautiful.”  
  
Red creeps up her cheeks, almost matching the light surrounding her and her smile widens. You can’t help but match it.  
  
“Flatterer”  
  
“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth,” You quip back easily. It’s a conversation you have had a hundred times, and you will probably have a thousand more. You didn’t mind. Lena Luthor was the most sublime creature you had ever encountered, and if she needed reminding of the fact, you would be happy to oblige.  
  
She rolls her eyes, blush still firmly in place, not ready to give in. You frown, but choose let the matter drop for now, opting instead to follow her original train of thought. You will have plenty of time to make her realize the truth.  
  
“What was _what_ like?”  
  
Her eyes trail back to the skyline in the distance. Fingers clutch at stray threads of clothing before letting them go. Even if you didn’t have the advantage of superhearing signaling the slight uptick in her heart, the fidgeting would have definitely clued you in to the fact that she was nervous. _Now that won’t do._  
  
The old ratty blanket you had chosen for this rooftop adventure was already on the small side, but now, you decide, it’s clearly still too big. You slide forward till your front is pressed to her back. Arms wound around her waist fingers rubbing soothing circles on her palms. You feel some of the tension in her shoulders unravel as she leans back, a clear indication for you to continue. A kiss to her nape causes her to let out a quiet sigh.  
  
It’s still new, being able to touch whenever you wish. To be as close as you had been yearning to be for half a year. Thankfully, your girlfriend seemed to feel the same, taking every opportunity to brush your hands together, run her fingers through your hair or hold on to you tightly as you both fell asleep. You revel in it.  
  
“Rao. What was your Rao like?” She asks.  
  
Your ministrations have clearly worked. Lena all but melts in your lap, her heartbeat a soothing even tone. You just about keep yourself from mentally fist pumping  
  
Deep green eyes look up at you curiously, waiting, patient, but without pressure. You know if you demurred, asked to skip the tale, there would be no judgement. You don’t know how you got so lucky.

The sun is almost gone now, and soon you will descend into the warmth of your heated apartment, if not for you, then at least for your very fragile, human girlfriend’s sake. But not yet.  
  
Right now, you had a story to tell.  
  
_“Light. Rao was light.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I am not 100% happy with it, but the angst came pouring out ok?
> 
> I apologize for nothing


End file.
